


fairy lights

by romajstorovic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 21:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15276267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romajstorovic/pseuds/romajstorovic
Summary: the night is cool and the coffee is hot. at least the music is good. god knows lance could do with relaxation right now.





	fairy lights

**Author's Note:**

> ive run out of ideas

It's the insecurity. The uncertainty. The feeling of something not fitting properly. That's what leads Lance to develop his new ritual.

After Voltron, the Paladins had all come home. Pidge and Matt had been able to reunite properly with their family. Shiro had seen his grandad. Hunk and his parents had gladly taken Keith, whose father was long gone, into their family. They'd also taken Krolia, and Allura, and Romelle, and Coran, in.

Lance's family weren't with them. He remembers the feeling of despair as his friends all ran to their families, sobbing and hugging each other, and he'd had nobody.

Or so he'd thought.

His family had been waiting at the Garrison to surprise him. It had worked- Lance was extremely surprised. There was a tearful reunion, mainly on his mother's part, as well as what could have been perceived as a wrestling match.

Lance kicks himself mentally as he recalls the embarrassment. His brother, Marco, had rugby tackled him into a hug, knocking him over. Lance's training had kicked in, and his instinct was to let Marco's momentum knock the pair over, then Lance would handspring up and kick Marco behind him where he could pull out his bayard and stop the threat.

His hand was at his waist, searching for his absent weapon, before he'd realised what he was doing. Marco, thoroughly winded, was very impressed. He laughed and ruffled Lance's hair, promising to make no more sudden moves.

Lance recalls the seemingly endless talks the Paladins had had with the Alteans. What would they do now that Lotor was gone, was there still a need for Voltron, somehow Sendak had mysteriously collapsed in a fit during the Kral Zera- there were so many things Allura wanted to discuss.

In the end, they'd decided that it would be best if Voltron remained disbanded for the time being. If the shattered Galra empire, or some other evil force, chose to rear its head, then the Paladins would come running.

Nobody spoke about what would happen after the seventy years the Paladins had left had passed.

And now Lance finds himself here, in his mother's back garden, sat on top of a table staring at a fence. His legs are crossed and his jacket is over them; he'd been wearing shorts and his legs were cold. He picks up the coffee mug in his hand, revelling in the heat it provides him.

Lance sips at it, then drains half the mug. He puts it down on the table, placing his headphones over his ears and stretching out his aching back. He lets the music calm him down, indulging in a fantasy he's had since he was a child.

He'd always wanted to be a performer. From a young age he'd been doing his best to make people happy. He joked around, made them laugh. He sang, made them cry. He danced, made them joyful. He was born to perform, but he'd never made it onto a stage.

As he sits on the table, jacket wrapped around his knees and coffee in his hands, Lance stares at the fairy lights strung up on the fence next to him, and imagines taking the stage and singing Amy MacDonald, whose music had been old before his parents had been born. Maybe he'd start to post videos of his singing, of his guitar. He's not sure, but he knows he's on the road to home.


End file.
